Page 11 of Never After Us
He nods, rolls the window back up, and drives away, classical music fading with him.
Suddenly, I’m alone.
Instead of relief, something else moves under my ribs—restless and uneven, a shift pressing at me from the inside out.Like my place is waiting for me to step inside and face something I’m not ready for.
Like the city itself is pausing, as if it expects something from me.
I drag in a breath, then another, trying to get my lungs to behave.After a couple more, I walk toward the entrance.The lobby door glides open automatically.
And that’s when I hear it, the disturbance nearby.
Laughter.
It’s bright, a little wild, and so startlingly out of place that my body goes stock-still.It floats from behind the concierge desk, followed by a voice that’s entirely too cheerful for ...well, for any hour of the day as far as I’m concerned.
“...no, Mila, sweetie, we donotpress all the elevator buttons.I know they’re shiny.It’s very rude to press them all at the same time.”
I stop walking.
What the fuck?
Who’s pressing them, and why is there a child in this building?The board would combust.Mrs.Lafferty would write a three-page letter in cursive about it.So ...it’s probably a visitor.It has to be.
Then they step into view.
A woman in a pink polka-dot raincoat, a camera bag strapped across her chest, red hair piled into a bun with strands curling everywhere, refusing to behave.There’s glitter on one sleeve—actual glitter.She looks exhausted, like she’s survived a marathon made of errands and caffeine, but she still radiates something warm that reaches across the lobby without permission.She’s probably one of those people who apologize to furniture when she bumps into it.Someone who could walk through a storm and somehow make it less miserable.
Beside her stands a little girl with a pink umbrella, rubber boots, and enormous eyes, taking in everything at once.
The woman looks up—and freezes when our eyes meet.
I freeze too.
It’s not because she’s beautiful, though she is.It’s ...everything else.She looks alive in a way I haven’t been in years and filled with something impossible to pinpoint at this time.Something I’ve never had, if I’m being honest.
Hope?
Optimism?
I study her, and I think it could be actual sunlight in human form?
Whatever it is, I want nothing to do with it.I feel like Dracula about to turn into dust because she’s way too bright.
Her smile appears instantly—automatic, warm, so bright it feels aimed directly at me.“Hi.Sorry—we weren’t blocking anything, were we?”
I stare.
Words.I need actual words.
Nothing happens.
She tilts her head.“Are you okay?”
No.
Not remotely.
I haven’t been okay since before the world was created.
